#*posts it*

Mitsuhide hadn’t really thought about it. He had simply risen on his feet, took everything he needed from the shelves, and began a tea ceremony. It felt natural. He had a lot of practice, with all those years in Lord Nobunaga’s service. Some people thought of him as a master in the art, but he wasn’t there yet. Lord Nobunaga was better than me. Still, his movements were precise, his timing impeccable. The herbal smell eventually reached his nostrils, somewhat…sugary. It’s… He hadn’t paid attention to which box of tea he had chosen. Mitsuhide lost his focus for less than a second but it was too late.

He made a mistake. He let his thoughts and emotions consume his mind. His jaw clenched slightly and he looked up, for… for reassurance perhaps. Or the opposite. Lord Nobunaga could do both in one single sentence… But, there was no one there to either frown or smile. Mitsuhide’s features relaxed into an unreadable expression, his eyes slid back to the cup in front of him. Droplets of tea on the tatami mat made a trail pointing to his left. He followed them with a slow gaze until he saw the second cup. The sight made him feel ill and he looked away quickly.

Lord Nobunaga’s criticism was often harsh, but it helped him get better in the art of making tea. And other things. Now, he doubted he would ever progress again. He would never be as good as many imagined and believed he was. Mitsuhide took the cup of tea in both of his hands and looked into his reflection. It was the face of a man that had failed. A man that had failed at more than just making tea. The aroma was everywhere now.

This particular tea box had magically appeared in front of his door, one day. It was one that Lord Nobunaga and he had found years ago in an european trade market. It had a very peculiar flavor, they never figured out what exactly, but enjoyed immensely nonetheless. They never came across it again after that day. That is until a few weeks ago when someone had apparently found it… and remembered. Mitsuhide’s smile hadn’t left his face all morning on that day he had received this gift, growing even wider each time he met eyes with a flushed Lord Nobunaga. They had never talked about it. They also never drank it together again. He shook his head and realized the tea was cold. But, it felt wrong throwing it away. It felt, wasteful. I might as well…

It tasted awful. Mitsuhide’s eyes grew wide, as big as bowls. He looked at it more closely, wondering if he had been mistaken somehow. But, what he saw there gave him the explanation he needed. He put the cup back on the mat and brought his fingers to his cheeks. It was his salty tears that had changed the flavor of the tea. He had been so lost in his memories, for a long time judging by the wet streaks on his face and down his neck, he didn’t notice the tear drops dripping into the tea cup. Around him everything was blurry and hazy. He felt dizzy… lost. He took a glimpse at the cup, filled with the tea and his tears, then to Lord Nobunaga’s usual place at his side. Nobunaga…